


Blind Like a Fool

by MatchLight



Category: Darkest Dungeon (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Religion, Trying to capture the mood of darkest dungeon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:00:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24270964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MatchLight/pseuds/MatchLight
Summary: There is no Light in this rotten, mouldering, decadent Hell!
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	Blind Like a Fool

**Author's Note:**

> When I was working on a long story I realised that my writing is fairly dry and monotone. So, I wrote this short piece to practice a more dramatic style, hopefully, it's not too over the top in places. Anyways, enjoy!

The torch's flame was reflected by the wetness of the filthy cobblestone floors, casting an eerie luminosity that was neither warm nor cold but grey like old mould. They walked slowly, scrapping their heavy iron boots with each laboured step, ears deaf to all but the maddening pound of their own hearts.

Reynauld had one hand holding the torch in front of him, and the other tightly gripped to the fabrics of Junia's waist as she half slumped and half limped against his shoulder. He would have preferred to have at least one hand free for his sword but it would be unwise to have the Vestal guiding them. Her hands were too shaky and her arms too weak. She would carry the torch awkwardly and make traversing the crypt more difficult. Or worse, drop and dowse the flames on the wet floor.

The dead air was made cold by their unnaturalness. It seeps through between the plates of his armour and clung to his flesh like a wet rag. Yet, his head was feverish, filled with dreadful thoughts, hot breath precipitating against his helm, blurring his vision and clouding his mind.

His gauntlet was slippery with gore and muck. But there was no blood, at least not the blood of the enemy. How could they fight a foe that doesn't even bleed? Those corpses, reanimated bones. The empty hollow of their eyes, the manners of their unhinged, hanging jaws, and the dry screeching sound of bone grinding against metal caused by the lack of flesh! Horrid! Horrid! Oh, the doctor. And Dismas!

Nay. Think not of it... Only walk.

His grip loosened as he tried to hurry his steps. Junia slipped out of his clutch, limp like how the dead should be, she didn't even try to catch herself before smacking against the ground with her face. Reynauld quickly crouched and hooked her up by the underarm of her armour. She was bleeding freely from her nose, it dribbled on her lips and her teeth and to her opened mouth that was gasping for breath. 

They were both kneeled on the floor, knees touching knees. Pressure builds within his forehead and Reynauld was unsure if he could lift the weight of both of them to stand.

The vestal had her face in her hands, blood now dripping to the floor and mixing with the filth already there. "The Light had abandoned me once" she wailed, "It is now abandoning me again!"

"Tis not the Light that abandoned you, sister." Reynauld said, his hand gripped painfully on her shoulder to keep her steady, annoyed at her sudden lack of faith, "Your priests were mere men, weak in their physical bodies, they speak the words of men, not of Light. Our Lord would never cast His children aside."

The vestal dropped her hands and glared at him with a grimace, teeth stained brown by her blood. Reynauld looked back at her and wished he could take off his helm and offer her the comfort of a human face. But then she suddenly tore into her prayer book with the intensity of a madman. Ripping pages after pages and casting them to the air. They dropped like dead birds in the damp air. Reynauld fumbled in shock and tried to wrestle her to stop with his one free hand. She grunted in pain and struggled with vigour as he tried to hold her arms still.

"Cease this madness!"

She flung her prayer book to the damp tiles. "You cease!" she cried, it was almost like the whine a distressed child, and the knight was suddenly reminded of her youth. "Can't you see!" she continued, "We were doomed to die in this crypt! OH! I would never see a holy house again! Not even that awful, unkept abbey in the hamlet. There is no Light down here. We're so deep in the earth we might as well be walking in our own graves!"

The torch was dimming, the oil on the cloth almost spent. The flutters of light flickers against their armour. Reynauld looked to the young woman's face. He searched her eyes in the half darkness, only to see hate, sharp like snow under the full moon.

"Light help us!" she shrieked, hands fisted on the collar of his tabard, "Oh God! Light help us all!"

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, please tell me what you think! Have a lovely day :D


End file.
